Gateway to Balance
by Dreamnorn
Summary: In a world where demons, angels, and everyone else have been segregated forever, the isolation ends in time for a demon girl to fall for an angelic boy. Can she survive this mythological madness and win his affections? Or will her love remain unrequited?
1. Prologue

**I was browsing deviantART one day when suddenly I came across a picture that drove within me inspiration.**

**It's a piece called "Magnet" by dA member bloochikin—and hot dog, is it ever awesome! If I could link it to you, I would. In brief, it's a picture of an older Helga and Arnold, back-to-back, holding hands… with a twist.**

**Helga is a demon, and Arnold is an angel.**

**That concept, just that very idea was so brilliant in my eyes that I had to make a story off of it. An epic tale of romance! Revenge! Segregation! Bad jokes! Obscure mythological references! A tale that would certainly knock your proverbial socks off if I were a better writer!**

**But I'm not a better writer, so instead I'll grace you with my dreadful attempt. :D Enjoy my failure at making something dramatic.**

**(It's fun to abuse exclamation points, by the way.)**

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Prologue

She had heard of Heaven before, but had never seen it.

Her parents would talk about it on occasion, and when her older sister was home, sometimes she would listen to her tell stories of it. The descriptions painted beautiful pictures in her mind, no matter how brutally they were said—a world where winged souls flutter through the clouds, where the sky is always blue, the season is spring, and creatures spend the afterlife in peace. The residents of Heaven, known as "angels," she heard little about, though she knew they were "denizens of things such as 'truth' and 'love.'"

Heaven. The upper-world. To her, it sounded like an amazing place, and she hoped she could see it someday.

She had heard of Earth before, but had never seen it.

Words about this land were much more common in her realm than those of Heaven. A land of neutrality, as things changed all the time, for better or worse. A place where many mysterious monsters and magics remain in hiding from human eyes. Fauns. Goblins. Ogres. Leprechauns. The skies change from blue to black regularly, and the seasons switch out in a four-way cycle. Creatures are born, live, and die.

Earth. The over-world. It intrigued her that there could be such a thing as changing conditions, so she hoped she could see it someday as well.

And then there was Hell.

A sulfurous plane, in the depths of the Earth's core, hidden by the layer of ground on which over-world creatures walk. A place where pain is considered comedy to its locals, the demons, and endless torture is just a part of their day. Fire rages from the various volcanoes, and the souls damned to a life in this plane are killed over and over and over again simply for the demons' amusement. The skies were always a deep red, the sooty clouds rain acid, and the entire realm smells of burning wine, as punishment for these souls' desires. The underworld.

She should know.

Helga G. Pataki, a female roughly four human years in age, was one of the demons.

Whether she was considered a living being or simply a soul is debatable, but she existed along with her family in a tiny castle near the Gates of Hell. She had only recently been brought into existence for her superiors, Big Bob, Miriam, and Olga Pataki, bring her up as another happy tormentor for the unlucky dead.

Yeah, right.

True, Helga was brought up by these older demons. True, she enjoyed torturing the poor unfortunate souls cast into the underworld by death. And true, she definitely lived in a little castle, bleak, black, and bloody.

But she was most certainly _not_ a happy demon.

It was another stifling morning when Helga awoke. She stretched on her hard rock bed, cramped and uncomfortable from another bad night's sleep. Tossing aside the rags she used as blankets, Helga jumped off her "mattress" and walked over to the large metal shard she used for a mirror. Considering her age, she was rather short as demons go, her small, pronged tail swishing after her. She flapped her little, pinkish, bat-like wings and hovered off the ground for a moment before collapsing back on the obsidian floor. Nope, still too tired to fly. With little hair-bands, she tied her blonde locks into two ponytails, and a big pink bow onto her head.

With a sigh, she gazed at the reflection of the top of her head. No horns. Still? Helga groaned as she put on the white shirt and pink overalls her father had stolen from an over-world girl. Every demon was supposed to have horns at the age of one human year. She had the tail. She had the wings. She even had the sharp, pointed fingernails and toenails. Why haven't her horns grown in yet?

Her eyes were also different from most demons. Blue. Like a sky in Heaven, though she had never seen a blue sky before. Everything indigenous to Hell came in shades of fair, brown, black, red, orange and yellow—including eye-colors.

Why did she have to be different?

Helga walked downstairs to the kitchen, the room bloody from the slaughtered creatures all demons loved to eat. Undoubtedly, her family had breakfast without her. Again. Big Bob and Miriam were crowding around the organ, where Olga was playing a deep and deadly tune on-key.

When Olga finished, Miriam shook her hand and drawled, "That was marvelous, my sweet little tormentor."

"You're a bloody genius!" Big Bob added.

"Father?" Helga said, walking over and tugging on Big Bob's slacks, "Who's going to take me to preschool?"

"Hmm?" He turned and looked down at Helga, expectantly gazing up at him. He shook her off of his foot and lied, "Oh yeah, yeah sure… play us another one, Olga."

"I know a good one," Olga purred, her faultless red wings folded neatly at her side, vermillion tail swishing around beneath her. Helga couldn't help but notice her sister's perfect horns, curling with a deadly point around her head, like a powerful ram. "How about 'The Phantom of the Opera?'"

"Oh, I love that one!" Miriam slurred.

"I'm so proud of you, Olga."

Miriam turned to look at Big Bob, grinning drunkenly in the brown light. "Can you believe it, Bob? Best organist at 15, head of the Gore Club in her high school…"

"Amazing, right?" he boomed, proudly patting her on the shoulder. "Plus she won every flying contest in the whole damn underworld! Makes me proud to be a Pataki."

Helga rolled her eyes. Olga was always best at everything. Fastest flyer. Farthest fire-breather. A torturer to top all torturers. Not to mention her fascination and perfection with the dark arts and magic, as well as organ music. It was enough to drive Helga out of her mind.

"Hey! Who's taking me to preschool?!"

Big Bob glared at Helga. "In a minute, Olga."

"I'm _Helga_, dad. Helga!"

"Whatever. Go kick a dead dog's soul, would ya?"

Heavy-hearted and furious at her superiors, Helga grabbed her small lunchbox and stormed to the door. "I'm going to preschool."

The organ stopped. "Perfectly on-key! You're amazing, Olga!"

"I'm _going_ to _preschool!_"

Slamming the door, Helga walked outside just as it started to rain acid. As a demon she was naturally immune to it, but she could hear the soft, muffled screams of people in the distance. With no drachmas for the boat-ride across the River Styx, Helga started to walk. The school was in the over-world, she knew, in the ruins of a Greek city known as "Hillwood." So, logically, she'd have to exit from Hell's Gate to go there.

In complete silence the young demon walked, upset at her family, upset at herself, and upset that the rain was tarnishing her hair. She hardly paid any attention to the drunk and snoring demon on the ashy path, or the demon lashing a soul with a flaming whip. Her self-pity was so strong that it would have taken an earthquake to shatter it.

At the banks of the Styx, Helga began to flap her puny wings, the weight of her metal tin driving her close to the water. A few moaning souls reached up for her, struggling to grab her by the tail and pull the four-year-old into the well with them.

One of them managed snagged her foot. "H-hey!" Helga squealed, kicking it. The soul screamed as it fell into the water, splashing Helga and covering her with muddy silt. Spitting out some dirt, Helga's wings began to clog with the weight of the mud. With a soft _thud, _she landed on the other side, right in front of Hell's Gate.

Stunned, Helga burbled her password: "H.G.P."

At once the gate opened, revealing to her a barren landscape of only rocks. Picking herself up again, Helga padded into the void, her eyes catching onto the opening of the tunnel to the Temple of Athens—the place where all demons had access to the over-world. To Earth.

_RRRRRMPPH._

Helga spun around as something caught her lunchbox. Cerberus, the guardian dog of Hell, had gripped onto it with one of his three heads. And with a yank…

_Splat!_

…Cerberus tossed her lunchbox in the air, chewed it with his iron fangs, and swallowed it as Helga fell into the grimy dirt. The middle head pouted at the first head, clearly upset that it didn't get a treat. The third head glowered at Helga, snarling in a voice like thunder, **"Leeeeaaaave."**

Screaming, Helga tore like fire to the tunnel, wings flapping for more acceleration. The little demon grabbed her pronged tail, terrified at everything at once and nearly on the verge of tears as she reached the opening to the over-world.

***

She had climbed for ten minutes, though to her it seemed like hours. Helga emerged from the doors of the Temple of Athens, covered in mud and grime, wings congested with dirt, and bow tattered somewhat from the ornery climb. It rained in the over-world too, she noticed. The precipitation was cold and wet and stung her eyes.

"Water?!" Helga exclaimed. Every harsh drop that collided on her skin felt like needles injecting lava into her bloodstream. It _hurt._ Hissing like a little rattlesnake, the young demon fled under a tree, which provided little shelter against the driving raindrops.

She wanted to cry. Her family, her day, her very _life_ felt like they were crumbling on top and around her. Why couldn't they just accept her and take her to preschool just like any other parent would, be they demon or angel, human or half-breed?

Quietly sighing to herself, Helga took a moment to take in the view. _Is this the over-world?_ Helga thought. The sky was gray and overcast, still raining the dreadful water that sent pain through her body. There was a dusty brown path, much lighter than the one in Hell, but still thick and muddy. Little green stalks were popping up everywhere on the ground. _What are those things? And what's this thing I'm leaning on? _Helga felt the tree with her sharp nails. _Is this a "green?"_

A particularly large water-drop smacked Helga on the head. She shouted in surprise, starting to shiver intensely from the cold. When you live in Hell, cold is just something that you're not used to.

She got up and began to walk along the path, grimacing in pain. A tall sign painted with gold letters stated proudly, _P.S.118 for the Mythological – Turn right at next corner. _Helga sniffled, her bones numbing to the sting, her breaths growing short from exhaustion and threatening tears.

Suddenly, she felt the rain stop hammering her back.

In surprise, Helga turned, and her eyes caught onto the most peculiar person she had ever seen.

It was a boy wearing a raincoat. He had an oblong head and tall stalks of hair—blonde, just like hers. His eyes were a light green, like the small stalks from the ground.

Then she noticed he had wings too, but not like any she'd ever seen. They were small like hers, but a sparkly white and covered in feathers. He didn't have horns… or a tail either, for that matter. Helga's eyes drew up to where he held a little umbrella. Something strange, round, and creamy-white was glowing above his head.

"Hi," he said sweetly, smiling gently at the little demon. "Nice bow."

Still confused and in pain, Helga breathed, "W-what?"

"I like your bow," he grinned, "Because it's pink like your pants."

In spite of everything, Helga felt herself smiling. A warm feeling filled her up from head to toe, and she could feel her cheeks start to grow even pinker than her bow _or_ her pants. She didn't know it then, but eventually she learned a few words for this feeling.

Compassion. Acceptance.

Love.

He walked her up near the school, protecting Helga from the rain with his umbrella. With every step they took, Helga grew fonder and fonder of this boy.

And then she realized she didn't know his name.

"What is your name?" Helga asked, innocently curious, flashing the boy her best smile.

"Arnold," he said. "What's yours?"

"Helga."

"I like it," he complemented, still grinning sweetly. Helga started to walk ahead by a little bit, her heart aflutter with his words.

Arnold paused.

Helga screamed as some fresh rainwater hit her head. She backed up into the umbrella, wrapping her tail around her and clenching it in her hands. Frightened, Arnold asked, "What's wrong? Are you okay?!"

"I… think."

"I'm so sorry!" Arnold exclaimed, genuinely hurt that he had harmed the little demon. "It's just… I didn't know you had a tail."

Helga stared at the thin, pronged tail in her hand. She felt… angry. Why did that upset her? "Well," she retorted, "at least I _have_ a tail. You don't have one at all!"

"That's so cool!"

Her brain felt as if it froze in time. Trying to process what he just said, she whispered, "Say what?"

"I think that's awesome!" Arnold laughed, good-naturedly smiling again. "I wish I had a tail. Can you pick stuff up with it?"

Helga smiled embarrassedly, feeling a little guilty for yelling at him. "Sometimes."

"Awesome," he breathed again, looking psyched that he had met someone with something as simple as a tail. Helga giggled a little.

A weird temptation came over her. For the first time in her life, she felt inclined to say something… nice.

"I…" she hesitated, "I like that… thing…"

"What thing?"

"Above your head. The glowing round thing."

"You mean my halo?"

Helga nodded shyly.

Arnold's eyes half-closed. "Thanks…" he said. "No one's ever complemented me on my halo before."

"Well, no one's complemented me on my tail before," Helga snickered. "But I guess that's because everyone where I come from has one."

"Same with the halos," Arnold replied. He tilted his oblong head. "Those are really interesting wings you have."

"Really?" Helga asked, lifting her arm and tilting around to get a look at her tiny demon wings. "They aren't that uncommon where I'm from." She glanced at his wings. "What about yours? I've never seen wings like that in my life!"

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "That's weird. Most of us have wings like this where I live. Where _are_ you from?"

"I'm from—."

"SHORTMAN!"

About twenty feet ahead of them, soaring down from the skies with a pair of feathered wings, was an elderly man with an odd cleft in his chin. He was wearing brown overalls over a white shirt. Like Arnold, he also had one of those glowing 'halos'—whatever _those_ were. The man appeared to be panicked.

"Grandpa! What's wrong?"

He ignored Arnold. "Get away from my grandson, you monster!" He grabbed Helga by the back of her shirt. She screamed in protest.

"Hey! Lemme go!"

"Grandpa, stop!"

He lifted Helga out from under the umbrella and tossed her into a puddle. She screeched in fear, pain, and shock as she fell into the water, waves of suffering throbbing through her body.

"Helga!"

"Don't move, Shortman." Helga watched as Arnold's grandfather ushered him under the umbrella. "Scum like that doesn't deserve kindness."

Arnold narrowed his eyes. His wings flapped in rage. "Helga's no monster."

"No monster?!" Grandpa roared. "She's a demon!"

"WHAT?" Arnold gaped as if he had been struck by lightning.

"You know. A demon. Hellspawn. Torturers of humans, angels, and every magical creature out there. This… this _thing_… belongs to the same race that stole your parents away from you!"

Arnold was about to cry. "Grandpa, I…"

"Look at the tail! Those fiendish, bat-like wings! Those nasty, sharp nails! Angels like us have no business meddling with these _monsters._"

Helga practically broke into tears. An angel? Arnold, the first person to walk her to school, the first person to complement her, the first person to care that she got hurt, was an _angel?!_

She could believe it, and yet Helga didn't understand how this was even possible.

"Come on, Shortman," his grandfather growled quietly, pushing Arnold towards P.S.118. "School is right this way."

Arnold's grandpa flew away, back to Heaven on his silky white wings. Helga struggled getting herself out of the water, her every muscle screaming in agony from the chilling wet. Her bangs dripped in front of her eyes, fogging her vision. She pushed them away. Arnold was still standing there, tears running down his face. Helga's spirit plummeted. That expression. That pure look of depression and betrayal.

Helga could hardly take it.

Slowly, hesitantly, Arnold walked towards her again. He held out his hand and lifted her to her feet, his expression unreadable. Helga said nothing. She could barely look him in the eyes. In those perfect, sad eyes.

Both silent, they walked together to the front steps of the school, the rain on Arnold's umbrella being the only sound to break the monotony.

"Goodbye, Helga."

Arnold closed his umbrella, eyes dull. Helga wished that she could pierce his mind, that she could convince him that she wasn't the monster his grandpa insisted she was.

The angel walked to the door of the school. Helga stood behind, watching him, her blue eyes growing glossy.

"Goodbye…."

Helga sat down, closed her eyes, and began to weep.

_**To be continued…**_

**--**

**D: Helga! Don't cry! Well, I guess life/afterlife/existence can be a bee-yawtch sometimes.**

**So, I have some questions for you… do you like the idea? Do you dislike it? Did I pull off an interesting prologue, or have I just generally sucked this entire time? Please let me know, as I want to make this story a good experience for my readers.**

**One quick thing I'd like you to know: yes, I'm fully aware how out-of-character Grandpa is in this prologue. Trust me, he's going to be in-character for the majority of the story, but I wanted to establish ahead of time that he **_**hates**_** demons with a passion. Why does he hate them? It'll be explained further in future chapters.**

**Thank you for reading and have a nice day.**


	2. Barriers Fall

**Hey, everyone! Dreamnorn here again with the update to **_**Gateway to Balance**_**.**

**I must say, I was pleasantly surprised that so many of you like my story. I mean, wow. That last chapter I posted wasn't even a chapter—it was the PROLOGUE**_**.**_** Holy beepers! And twelve people adding it to story alert… Hoover Dam. I haven't seen such positive responses to my work since **_**Spyro: Truth or Dare**_** was still an active project.**

**Quick note for all of you: I'm one of those people who can only update roughly once a week. This is due to being gone 12 hours every school day and homework over the weekends. I apologize in advance for any problems that may hinder my efforts to regularly update.**

**Thank you all for your patience, and enjoy!**

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Barriers Fall

She never forgot that boy.

For four years the memory scorched her mind, hotter and rawer than the upturned Hell around her. Those precious few minutes with that angel had left a permanent impression in Helga's mind. Where her family had failed, he had succeeded. The only being who showed her kindness. The only being who cared, even if for mere heartbeats.

Arnold.

They went to the same school, P.S.118, all those years, though they never talked with each other. It was clear the moment Helga stepped inside what was happening.

Fences. Barriers.

Segregation.

Aligned with Heaven? That side. With Hell? The other. Everyone else? Pick the one you're more inclined to. Every day in that school tried Helga's emotions. In a way, each moment apart from the angel felt like Helga was walking with leads on her feet. After all, he was on the other side. She tried shrugging these feelings off. Why worry over something she can't control? Helga never had the choice. She was simply ushered to one side of the bars, away from half the students who could've been her friends.

Away from her embodiment of happiness, her angel, unable to say a word in passing or simply flash a smile.

Away from the boy she cared about.

Somehow, trying to shove it away like it was nothing couldn't cure her. That strange emptiness she felt whenever thinking of him.

That faithful day wasn't the last time she had seen him, though. On occasion, through the metal fences, she could catch a glimpse of him on the other side, playing with the 'good' creatures. He hadn't outgrown his quirky blonde hair, those sweet green eyes, and the odd smile that never failed to make her giddy inside. She noticed, in her off glances, that his head was shaped like a football.

Even without Arnold actively in her life, Helga paid more attention to him than anyone else. Always searching for him through the fences, always smiling to herself when she saw him trip or do something cute on the other side. She would draw little pictures of him all over her history essays, imagining how he would look up close, how tender his hand would feel in hers.

How kindly he would gaze at her, just like the day they met.

Very few beings interrupted her constant, distant admiration of the angel. Sometimes when she was daydreaming about him, this weird goblin kid with glasses and asthma would sneak up behind her and start breathing heavily, earning a solid backhanded punch in the nose. And, of course, she had to listen to her teacher, Mrs. Slovak. Not to mention the bunch of morons who made up her family, since she got in trouble frequently. Otherwise nothing could break these quiet musings.

Nothing, perhaps, except the first day of school.

***

"YIIIIIIIIIRR!"

"Aah!"

Helga snapped awake, head ramming into a lost spirit that had flitted into her room. It was bedraggled like a banshee, and wailing its head off.

Two seconds awake, and already Helga felt like this would be a bad day.

"Back off!" the demon spat, grabbing a cattle prod from the other side of her bed. With two quick stabs, Helga had startled the soul. It began to bleed over her bed sheets and screeched even louder than before. With a high-pitched shriek, the ghostly figure flitted out of Helga's window and down into the streets.

_How the crap did it get in my room? _Helga wondered calmly, stepping out of bed and stretching. It happened on occasion in the underworld, since the ghosts of the damned could phase through a lot of the varieties of rock, though obsidian wasn't one of them. She scratched her head, her rough nails feeling some of the fabric that made up her purple bedtime bow. Turning around towards the mirror, her long tail lashed at the window's holder, knocking it down and closing it. _I could have sworn my window wasn't open last night._

The demon strode to her dresser, pulling out her only outfit: a pink dress with a red stripe near the bottom and a white undershirt. Carefully untying her purple bow, she exchanged it for a pink ribbon—the same she had worn since Arnold had complemented her before preschool. She walked to her metal mirror to do her pigtails. Helga had changed somewhat in appearance these past years. Though she still had no horns to speak of (a fact her parents would constantly shun), her tail had grown longer, the prong at the end sharper. Her wings had expanded, so she could fly longer… at least, in theory. She was tall now, about the average size of kids in her upcoming grade. Fourth grade.

And once again, she found herself irritably getting ready for school.

"HELGAAA!"

_Damn._

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Criminey!"

Helga stormed from her room, carrying two small folders and a little pink book. Big Bob was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, his eyes sharp with anger and disappointment. Terrific.

"Young devil, I'd like to have a word with you…"

"What did I do _this_ time, Bob?" Helga asked spitefully. Her sharp blue eyes were narrowed in annoyance.

Big Bob grabbed her hand and flapped his powerful, dragon-like wings. The little demon clung to his arm, feebly flapping her wings to keep herself from slipping. He took her to the attic—a place she seldom seen. It was filled to the brim with knick-knacks and sharp objects. Flails here, lances there, polearms and poleaxes and even an electric chair. Helga knew her father owned "Big Bob's Brands"—the most popular shop of torture devices in all of Hell. She had always assumed this was where he kept his spare stocks.

Big Bob ushered her towards a large, clean mirror. It looked spotless and new, unlike the shard in her room. "Open your mouth, young lady, and bare me some teeth."

Helga bared her teeth at Big Bob, growling. _C'mon, whatever this is, get it done. I'm going to be late for school._ She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her canines had grown since her younger years, to the point that they were longer and sharper than most other beasts—not as long as a vampire's, of course, but still scary.

They were also spotless.

"Have you been brushing your teeth, young lady?"

"Yeah, Bob. What's it to ya?!"

The larger demon huffed, "What's it to me? What's it to _me?!_ Fool! Demons don't brush their teeth! We have to look our worst for the public."

"Bob," Helga glowered, "In case you haven't noticed, you got me a _pink_ outfit. I don't think that's really the epitome of 'terrifying' either."

"Shut up!" He growled. "I don't _care_ about your outfit. I _care_ that your teeth are clean. Why in the name of Satan himself would you _brush your freaking teeth?_"

Helga had no real response to that. In truth, Helga hated the feeling of gunk and plaque on her teeth. It tasted, felt, even smelled gross. Her parents had always insisted that toothbrushes were for forcing souls to clean up their own blood, but then again, Helga figured, why would they be called 'toothbrushes?' It just didn't make sense.

Honestly, what's wrong with these people?

Big Bob started to speak again. "Promise me you'll never do horrible things like this again, Helga. We Patakis have a reputation to maintain. Why, when I was your age…"

At that point, the little demon stopped listening. Only small phrases like "Olga would never have done this" and "when will you ever learn" were registered as Helga stared at the rickety grandfather clock. Eight o'clock?! _School starts in ten minutes!_

"Yeah, mhm, sure, right," Helga snapped after a while. She yelled, "Now would you just put a sock in it and let me go?! I have to go to school."

"School?" Big Bob crinkled his face, as if searching his memory for something. "Oh, right, that. I paid 20 drachmas for a chariot pass."

Helga's eyes widened. She smiled. "Really? I get to take the chariot?!"

"Did I stutter?"

"Alright!" The demon fluttered her wings happily, throwing her fists in the air with joy. She had never taken the chariot to school before, though many other kids did. Finally, she would be able to experience what it was like to ride on a chariot. "Thank you, Dad!" Reaching forward, Helga gave her father a gentle hug.

"HEY!" Big Bob roared. He shook her off. "Don't you go around doing mushy stuff like… _hugging_ people_._ And don't say 'thank you' either—that's too polite."

Outside, Helga heard a loud whinny and what sounded like hooves on cobblestones.

"Now get out there and make me proud."

***

The first thing Helga could honestly think of was "wow" when she saw the chariot for the first time. Two huge black horses with fiery manes and powerful wings were hooked to the front, where a large demon was at the reigns. Unlike many chariots she had seen in the books at school, these had more than one row of seats—several, for all the Hell-aligned students at P.S.118. One of the seats near the front was untaken.

Cautiously paying the charioteer a drachma, Helga sat down on the burnt wooden seat. The horses took flight a moment or so later, blowing Helga's hair back with the thrust. Slightly startled, Helga quickly regained her composure and took a second to look over the others on this chariot. There were some familiar faces—Brainy the goblin, minding his own business and grinning like an idiot in the back row, and Rhonda the siren, stroking her raven hair and flirtatiously winking at her own reflection in a hand-mirror.

She also saw Gerald, one of the odder kids in her class. He didn't look like much: about regular-sized, with dark African skin and a simple red sport shirt with the number '33' on it. His most distinguishing feature had to have been his tall hair, which stuck straight into the air with a cylindrical shape. Gerald's clothes were tattered in many places, with some tears appearing to have originated from claws. Helga never really paid him much attention, and she honestly didn't care too much about finding out what kind of magical creature he was supposed to be and why he was supposedly an 'evil' being. All she knew was that he was a teller of tales, a mastermind of every myth, every mystery—and he was a pretty captivating speaker at that.

Clutching her books with impatience, Helga's eyes wandered back to the scenery. The horses drew the chariot through Hell's Gate and past a sleeping Cerberus. It weaved back and forth past cascading rocks against the blood-red sky and dove into the tunnel Helga had to climb by foot these past years. She kept sliding on the wood, twining her tail around the chair leg to keep from falling out of the vehicle.

A brilliant light flashed from outside…

_WHAM!_

The next thing Helga knew, the chariot had burst through the doors of the Temple of Athens, swerving through the ruins of the once-great Greek city. "Woohoo!" she cheered, spreading her wings and throwing a fist in the air. "This is awesome!"

After about two more minutes, the ride ended (too soon, in Helga's opinion) in front of P.S.118. The sky was bright blue with scarce clouds dotted here and there on the horizon. Grass swayed softly in the hushed wind as Helga disappointedly got off the chariot, pouting a little that the ride had ended so quickly.

On the other side, she could see another chariot with winged horses descending smoothly before the school. It was made of silver and gold metals, gleaming in a godly light beneath the morning sun. The horses were glimmering white, with silver manes and tails. Helga took a hushed breath. The 'good' creatures' chariot was so beautiful, so striking. Would she ever ride in a chariot like that?

Putting on a determined expression, Helga plowed her way to the school doors. She entered the building.

And gaped.

The fences were gone.

Other beings followed shortly after, and most of them shared Helga's reaction. The border barring the 'good' creatures and the 'evil' ones from mingling had been taken down.

"Willekers," an elf to the side breathed, his pointed ears drooping a little in shock.

"You can say that again," Helga whispered.

"Willekers," he repeated.

Before anyone could say another word, the intercom clicked on. A booming male voice began to echo in every hall of P.S.118.

"_Attention, students,"_ the voice stated, _"In celebration of the end of the Great War, our school along with the other P.S. series will be removing all traces of physical segregation. The playgrounds have been conjoined to form one big one, and now students from every background and species can learn together in the same classroom. Please go directly to the class you have been assigned to—chances are you will know half of the students there, and you may be surprised what friends you can make that you may never have known existed. Thank you, and have a marvelous first day of school."_

The P.A. clicked off. Everyone was quiet for a moment, busy absorbing the shocking news they had just heard.

It was over. The segregation was over.

Helga couldn't believe it.

***

Practically no one talked in the halls on the way to their classes; understandably so, since many of them haven't lain eyes on each other these past years. Helga felt awkward as she walked to her classroom, checking her student I.D. if the information was right. _Helga G. Pataki, Grade 4, Mr. Simmons, Locker 724._

She glanced down the hall. A piece of paper with the words "Mr. Simmons" in bold writing stood out to her. It was on the other side of the hallway, where once only 'good' creatures could have walked. With a soft smile, she strode towards the door, closing her eyes confidently. _This'll be interesting,_ she thought, _getting to know some of the shmucks from the other side of the alignment pool._

"OOF!"

With a loud crash, Helga fell to the floor. Her books and folders scattered, and she landed on her tailbone. "Urgh," she grunted, sitting herself up and collecting her stuff. The demon glowered at the kid who ran into her.

"What do you think you're doing?! Can't you see where you're going, you toady—?"

Helga's next few words caught in her throat.

"Are you okay?"

The kid she ran into, a boy, turned his head to face her. A frightfully familiar, oblong head.

"Arnold?"

The angel gulped, his green eyes shimmering with shock. Helga's heart started to race in her chest. He was so perfect, just like she imagined him to be all these years. She was taller than him now, but his halo still glowed neatly and precisely around his head, like light from the gods. He wore a blue sweater over a bigger, brown-plaid shirt, as well as a pair of sleek black shoes. His feathery white wings looked slightly disheveled from the fall, but to Helga they looked radiant.

Arnold shook his head, clearing out his initial shock. He stuttered, "H-Helga. Hey. I'm… sorry about that."

"Nah, don't worry."

Helga stood up and gathered Arnold's books. She handed them to him and smiled crookedly, struggling to mask her inner nerves. "Happens all the time."

The angel only stared at her, too shocked to speak. Helga's spirits dropped, and she looked away shyly. The memory of Arnold's grandfather calling her a monster suddenly slapped her back to the present, back to what she figured Arnold would think about demons like her. A huge part of her wanted to show him that she could be… good. Like him.

"Uhh… a-after you," he murmured.

Helga looked him in the eyes. Peering past their sparkling green exterior, she tried to see the thoughts within that long, distinctive head. The demon had seen this expression before. Confusion. Fear.

Indecision.

Helga felt her strong positive emotions rapidly sour. _Is he still looking at the demon part of me?_

She scowled visibly. Arnold's eyes widened.

"I don't need your help, **Football Head. **Get outta my way!"

The angel saddened visibly. He sighed. "Whatever you say, Helga."

With a growl, the demon stormed into the classroom, her features hard from anger. As she shoved a few students aside to get to her seat, she muttered, "Arnold. What a moron. What a stupid, football-headed, prejudiced buffoon. How I hate him."

Helga watched, dozens of emotions warring in her head as Arnold sat down two seats in front of her. Almost reluctantly, her softened at his sweet naivety, his gentle smile as he waved politely to a few other students, his soft-looking hands hugging the schoolbooks close to his chest. The demon could feel her insides begin to melt, and her senses began to flit from her head. No matter how hard she tried to push away her feelings, the full force of her memories of him being so kind to her flooded back in mere moments. The demon slowly pulled out her little pink book and purple pen, sighing dreamily at her old doodles and poems. They all were centered around the same kid with the oblong head.

The demon looked up and smiled affectionately at the boy.

"…And yet… I love him."

_**To be continued…**_

--

**Was this chapter good? Bad? Ugly? In-between? **

**It was very tricky deciding what age to make Arnold, Helga, and the rest of the gang for the start of the actual story. In my eyes, they could have been anywhere between 4****th**** and 8****th**** grade. On one hand, I want their relationship to develop and grow, and I want them both know that they had been victims of segregation—something I felt would take a slightly older kid to understand.**

**On the other hand, I wanted them to be young enough so the memories of preschool haven't dimmed down completely and that they could recognize each other.**

**In the end, I chose to have the story start them in 4****th****-grade, as it's canonical to the show, and the characters in **_**Hey Arnold!**_** don't really act like 4****th****-graders anyway.**

**Remember, I always appreciate feedback, even if it's just catching nitpicky mistakes. Please review!**


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